


she fell from your hands and left fire in your heart

by mollivanders



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: (all the tropes? all the tropes!), (established briefly and then not fight me draven), Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Canon Universe, Caretaking, F/M, Gen, Interrupted Relationship, Jyn and Cassian are competent spies who are distracted by pining, Kissing for the Cover, Mutual Pining, Requited Love, Sharing a Bed, Undercover Missions, Undercover as Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 17:36:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14110548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollivanders/pseuds/mollivanders
Summary: “This is stupid,” Jyn said, coming out of the bedroom. She was struggling to do something up the back of her dress, arms flailing in outraged shortness. “It wasn’t this hard on Hoth.”He didn’t laugh at her, but she still stopped short at something in his face. Damn.“There was help on Hoth,” he said, walking over to her.“It’s stupid,” she muttered, as he stepped behind her, finding purchase on her dress to fasten it. “I can fight the Empire, but not this dress.”He should move. This close to her, he could smell the soap from the shower on her, and though she’d put her hair into a different bun, rebellious tendrils were already on the loose, curling around her neck. She stilled under him and with a jolt, he realized he was still holding her dress fastenings. Hurriedly, he dropped the fabric and stepped away, clearing his throat.





	she fell from your hands and left fire in your heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thereigning_lorelai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thereigning_lorelai/gifts).



> Written for thereigning-lorelai for the Holiday Gift Fic giveaway with the prompt of 'undercover + faking for the sake of the mission (while we're totally secretly in love with each other)'. I tried to mix it up a little and I hope you like it :D The M rating is just barely there, but the fic ended up being a bit much for T! The _Coral Vanda_ comes from The Thrawn Trilogy in Legends.

The _Coral Vanda_ was a glittering jewel, filled to the brim with the wealthy and the emotionally desperate. It passed through the tropical waters of Pantolomin, glittering coral gardens and aquatic alien life filling the viewports. It was, according to the travel brochure Jyn had picked up, one of the most beautiful sites in the galaxy.

The passengers on _Vanda_ , however, didn’t seem to care about anything but the card games.

As subtly as they could, Jyn and Cassian picked their way through the first gambling hall toward their rooms at the other end of the ship. Even though the Rebellion hardly had coin to spare, the least elegant apartments on _Vanda_ were still beyond either of them.

“Are you sure we can afford this?” Jyn asked as the door _swished_ open. Even from the entrance, she could estimate the value of the front room on sight. Factoring in the discount on the black market, the furnishings were worth well over a hundred thousand credits. “It looks expensive,” she added as mildly as she could.

The look Cassian threw her said he’d read right through it.

“The room isn’t very expensive,” he said, crossing over the bedroom. A luxurious bed dominated the bedroom, and peering through the bedroom door, Jyn spotted the door to the ‘fresher. She was willing to bet it was as plush as the first two rooms.

Cassian tossed his travel bag onto the bed and opened up its hidden compartment, revealing a selection of blasters and smoke grenades for the mission. His sniper rifle would have been of no use to him here. “The casino makes most of its money on the casino floor, and since this planet is in contested space, they have to attract guests somehow.”

She frowned, watching him from the front room, before emptying the contents of her own bag on the bed and finding a scanner. Without a word, she began a sweep of the bedroom, then the others. No bugs, not yet.

“At least they’ll be distracted,” she said. “We’ll have to watch out for thieves though.”

He met her gaze, impartial. “I don’t think pickpockets are allowed on _Vanda_ ,” he said and she rolled her eyes.

“Not petty thieves,” she said, moving back to her luggage contents and rifling through them for the night’s outfit. Her cover here was as a high class Imperial citizen who had a weakness for dice games. “The kind of thieves who’d be interested in our equipment.” He frowned, absorbing the information as he passed her a compact blaster. She checked the charge and set it aside for after she’d had a chance to change.

“Kaytoo usually handles that,” he finally said and she shrugged.

“That’s why you have me here then,” she replied with a lopsided grin. “No droids on _Vanda_.”

He caught her gaze and held it a moment too long, an unspoken refrain between them. She curled her fingers into her travel suit, hoping he didn’t spot the flush creeping up her neck. It was their first trip alone since Scarif, and she didn’t want to complicate it. Not if he didn’t. Not after –

“Okay,” he said at last, his voice still softer than usual but not pushing the issue. The focus, for now, stayed on the mission. “I’ll prep in the other room.”

“I hope you brought enough coats this time,” she called after him, trying to crack the mood, and he shot a smile back at her as the door fell shut behind him. It was familiar, and counterproductive to her aims.

_Come on, Erso. Pull it together._

Alone, she surveyed the room, her heart thumping nervously in her chest. She understood why they were sharing; it would have raised too many questions otherwise. They were traveling as a couple, and under the aliases of Imperial sympathizers. She wasn’t even _upset_ about it, really. It was practical.

Still, even as she headed out, the image of the bed lingered in her mind, along with the last time they’d shared one.

(At least, she reassured herself, this one looked more comfortable.)

+

The Rebellion had packed an assortment of dresses for Jyn to wear on this trip, all with special modifications. Draven had assigned an agent to prep her for the trip, with minimal success. Cassian had no idea if she’d even wear the dresses, or if she’d come out of that bedroom wearing her flak jacket. He’d offer to help, if he thought that it wouldn’t be as helpful as a grenade in a ‘fresher.

Whatever he’d expected, he wasn’t prepared in the least when the bedroom door opened again.

(It was his _job_ to be prepared, and a small part of his brain was lecturing him on that very point.)

The rest of his brain was distracted.

“Ready?” he asked before looking up, and then froze when he caught sight of her. Clearing his throat, he dropped his gaze to the floor again, lecturing himself, and then noticed something else. At least he wasn’t completely off his game. If Kaytoo was seeing this, or Draven, he’d be in for the worst debriefing of his life.

“What?” she asked, flushing, and he looked at her with an arched eyebrow.

“You forgot to change your boots,” he said, looking pointedly at her feet, and she scowled, marching back into the bedroom with a muttered epithet. It was familiar territory. Safe.

 _Good_.

The rest of the evening went more easily. The credit line Solo had connected them with was fluid enough for Jyn to start with, and considering she’d cleaned the smuggler out enough times that his copilot had asked her to stop playing him, her chances here were solid. _Vanda_ was packed with high rollers and hard timers alike, and by the time she’d won her third hand, she’d relaxed into her role. He stood closer to her than usual, a green drink in hand, but they still had to sell the image. His part was to be forgettable.

“See him yet?” she breathed, shuffling her cards as Cassian shook his head imperceptibly next to her. The hologirl in the center of the table finished issuing the other players their cards and Jyn pushed a small stack of credits towards the pot.

“Keep playing,” he said, and set his now empty drink on the table with a wince. Whatever she’d ordered was terrible. “Try losing a few hands. Maybe he’ll trust his luck better that way.”

She rolled her eyes again as he pulled away from her. Their target was here, but if Cassian couldn’t find him here, he could still scout the target’s quarters. Turning his comm to silent, he disappeared into the crowd.

Hopefully Jyn would have better luck without him, and he’d get his head on straight.

+

Two hands after Cassian disappeared, a man matching their target’s description dropped down at her table, gesturing at the pile.

“Deal me in,” he said to the hologirl, and shot Jyn a toothy grin.

It would have been easier, she thought, if it was a simple grab job. Bodhi and Kaytoo were in orbit around Pantolomin’s moon and could be here with a standard hour’s notice to grab an escape pod. It would be easier, and faster. In actuality, she mused, they had to confirm the target’s identity, get access to his quarters, and plant the transmitter on his personal datapad. Sorin Marks was in charge of Imperial Supply and Procurement, and intercepting any shipments he ordered would salvage a serious Rebel inventory issue. He wasn’t an idiot, which made things harder. He _was_ known to like card games and pretty women, and, Jyn thought with wry annoyance, the princess was otherwise engaged – and couldn’t play cards for squat.

 _Simple_ , Draven had called it. She could think of simpler solutions to the Death Star.

By the time Marks finally left the table, she’d actually come up with one.

After the night at the tables though, she needed to let off some steam. Changing into more functional clothing, she started the cross-check of their exits and then, after taking the edge off her frustration, she headed back to their rooms. What she needed was a long hot shower, and the ‘fresher facilities she’d examined in her bug sweep fit the bill.

When she got back to their rooms, Cassian still wasn’t there, but he’d checked in at the right intervals so she figured she had some time to spare. Sealing herself into the ‘fresher, she wriggled out of her fancy clothing, setting her blaster on the counter, and turned to the shower. One nice feature of _Vanda_ being a submersible casino was that water was _not_ a resource in short supply. Another nice thing was that the casino catered to high rollers with high standards. The showerhead was complemented by gentle spray from opposite sides of the shower, and as she stepped into it, the pressure was good enough to kill for. Her shared quarters back on Hoth had nothing like this, and she sent mental thanks to Intelligence for this assignment.

Tilting her face up to the water, she just stood there for a few moments, turning under the spray and absorbing the heat and the water pressure. Knots she felt like she’d been carrying for months – years – loosened in her back and she braced her arms against the shower wall, losing herself in the luxury.

(Losing herself in her thoughts.)

Tilting her head back up to the spray, an image of Cassian drifted up from where she’d hoarded it; an image of him victorious, exultant, and flushed underneath her hands; an image as vivid as when it had been made.

An image that had no place here.

With a start, she heard the bedroom door _whoosh_ open and Cassian call out her name.

“I’m back!” he added, and then after a long pause, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she croaked out, jolted back to the present, and hurried through the rest of her shower. It wasn’t allowed. He’d disappeared, and they’d never gotten their timing right since. It wasn’t allowed.

(Especially, she thought grimly, not here; not tonight.)

She tumbled out of the ‘fresher a few minutes later, bundled in swaths of thick towels to claim fresh clothes, and found Cassian pulling his boots off on the bed.

“Oh,” he said, his neck flushing. “I didn’t realize you didn’t – I’ll wait in the front room.”

“It’s fine,” she said, tightening the towel around her. She was still dripping from the shower but he looked a wreck. He’d been out for hours. “You should try it out. It’s amazing.” He looked at her from the corner of his eye and she tried to relax. “Really,” she assured him, and walked to the other side of the room to dig through her clothes. He’d put them away while she was in the ‘fresher and it took her a minute to find her drawer. “Did you track Marks to his room?”

Cassian cleared his throat and pulled himself together, nodding. “I tracked him pretty closely,” he said, shifting back into spy mode. “It’ll be hard to get access to the room, though. He’s got two plainclothes guards stationed at every access hallway. They stopped someone ahead of me and frisked him down for looking at a painting. We’ll need an alternate entry.”

Jyn’s mouth quirked. “Good news,” she said. “We have one.” Opening a nightstand drawer, she produced a holo that scrolled time and date information above her hand. “We have an invite,” she explained. “He’s hosting a party for high rollers in his suite tomorrow night.”

Cassian’s eyebrows arched, impressed. “Will I be going?” he asked as she handed him the holo. It was standard issue and lightweight, and nothing compared to the shock of his skin against her own.

“I insisted,” Jyn said, grimacing. “He was disappointed, but…” she trailed off.

“He understood,” Cassian said into the silence, watching her carefully. That was the point. “The party is good cover. We can plant the tracker while he’s distracted.” He didn’t look away, like he wanted to say something more, and then shook his head. “Good work.”

She nodded, quiet, and flexed her fists. One night, one day, and one night more to cover their tracks. Simple. Easy. Just like Draven had said.

Excess steam was drifting into the bedroom from the ‘fresher, catching Cassian’s eye. He looked over towards the ‘fresher, then back to her.

“Is it really that nice?” he asked, his voice hoarse with longing that made her grin widely. The Rebellion had few amenities and no luxuries, and if anyone deserved that shower, it was Cassian.

“Take your time,” she said and he stood, pulling off his jacket and rolling his shoulders. Despite herself, that hidden memory drifted closer, and she shut her eyes.

(Simple. Easy.)

+

Jyn had been right about the ‘fresher. It had taken most of his self-control not to spend half the night in the shower, sampling the soaps and different water pressures, but a lifetime with the Rebellion made it impossible for him to really indulge. He scrubbed out his hair, trying to look less like the haggard rebel officer he was and more like someone who’d spent his life in luxury. A good night’s sleep would help – he hoped.

By the time he padded out of the ‘fresher, taking care to turn the light off before he opened the door, Jyn was already in bed. Protocol dictated they share the bed to protect their cover – _just in case_ , Draven had said with one of his more serious faces – but they’d agreed on the way over. It was hard to justify flipping a credit for one of them to sleep on the tiny couch in the front when they only had military cots to look forward to on their return, and Draven had a point. It was unlikely they’d be disturbed in their rooms, but Cassian lived by redundancies.

It was still dangerous territory though, for entirely different reasons.

Kaytoo would call it _an unnecessary risk_ and Chirrut would probably cluck superiorly at him. Baze and Chirrut had been giving him entreating looks lately, and it was only a matter of time before one of them cornered him to find out what, exactly, the problem was. It had been three months since Scarif, and almost a month since he’d been stationed at the new base with everyone else. He didn’t know whether they’d understand, or accept, any answer he had to give.

(The only answer he was interested in was Jyn’s.)

He slid in next her, careful to leave her plenty of space. Even though she’d been asleep when he’d come out of the ‘fresher, he’d caught the change in her breathing that meant she’d jolted awake despite his countermeasures. Now though, her breathing was evening out again. No words, no explanation, but he understood all the same.

Whatever else was off, their trust was not.

He pulled the covers over him, trying not to audibly react to the softness of the bed. He didn’t even think he _could_ get used to this – too much comfort after his life – but hell if he wouldn’t steal one night in it. When he reached up to check that his blaster under his pillow, he froze.

Jyn had rolled over onto his side, still asleep but reacting to the change in the bed, and her hands were curled into fists before her face. There was a strain in her eyes, even here. His pulse jumped unsteadily with her so close, but he stayed still, assessing whether she was restless or dreaming.

She’d tied her hair back after her shower, but it was already coming loose from her bun, small chunks of it fanning around her face. Her brow furrowed, her hands shifted, and realization hit him faster than daylight. Carefully, as he’d done the morning after that one night, he shifted closer and prayed to whatever force was listening that she wouldn’t attack or worse, retreat. She didn’t react, and he cautiously slid his fingers between her hands to clasp one of them in comfort. The position was going to be hell on his back, but at the moment he didn’t care.

She didn’t wake to his touch, trapped in the nightmare, but slowly, her breaths evened out, mirroring his own. With a squeeze of his hand, her fingers tightened around his and she mumbled something territorial. That victory underway, he slowly slid the rest of the way down next to her, his hands wrapped around hers. After one heartbeat – two – she finally relaxed.

A terrible wave of longing and loss flickered within him, angry at himself and the Empire and everyone in between. Chirrut was right. Baze was right. He was wasting time.

(He didn’t want her to leave.)

He didn’t want to take away her home.

At least now, with his heart thudding in his chest – at least she was _here_. At least she hadn’t disappeared when he’d been sent away; at least she hadn’t run from the room; at least she _had_ a home. He felt selfish and hopeful all at once, dreaming of a lift back on Scarif and quarters in a now-abandoned base. His hand tightened in hers, protective. Chirrut was wrong. Baze was wrong. If she wanted more –

He’d be there.

Lost in his own circus of justifications and ramifications, he finally fell asleep.

+

When she woke the next morning, Cassian was already awake in the next room. She could hear him in the next room, checking and reloading their blasters. It wasn’t supposed to be that kind of mission, but _that kind of mission_ was never a sure thing.

Anyway, from what she could remember of last night, she couldn’t blame him not wanting to be here in the morning. Her memory was foggy and sleep-laden, but she remembered a nightmare, and then Cassian, and then nothing.

With a sigh, she dragged herself out of bed and pulled her clothes on, this time sans boots. When she finally opened the door, Cassian seemed calmer.

“Morning,” he said, looking up at her quickly over another blaster. “I made breakfast.”

She felt a little guilty as she took in the array; he must have been up a while already. “Thanks,” she said, and took her plate to sit next to him. He paused in his work and she stared at her breakfast. “And – last night – ”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, focusing on the blaster again. It didn’t seem to need that level of vigor. “You sleep okay after?”

A pause hung heavy between them and then she cleared her throat, opting to barrel through the situation. She didn’t know what else to say, or what he was thinking, so she just nodded forcefully.

“Much,” she said, and regretted it instantly. He didn’t flush this time, but he did stop attacking the blaster.

“I wanted to go over the exit route I scouted yesterday,” she said, taking a large bite of whatever the deliciousness on the plate was. “The party’s not until 2100 standard hours. I can work the tables again, work on the cover, see if there’s anyone else we can recon here.”

They went over the plan, and she wondered briefly if she always seemed this distracted around him. Maybe that’s why Chirrut and Baze kept shooting her sympathetic looks. Cassian followed her explanation of the layout, and after she went over it, he repeated it back to her to make sure it was right. He got it on the first try.

The first and most essential way out was from the primary gambling hall to the escape pods; the next was from their rooms to the escape pods, along with any potential exits along the way. The casino came equipped with emergency breathing masks in case of a rupture, and from the reports she’d read, any breach in the casino triggered a protocol to seal the nearest blast door. From where he’d identified Marks’ room to be, there were three possible quick exists, two of which would involve setting off casino-wide alarms with local blast doors and one of which would involve dispatching some plainclothes security.

“We’ve been in worse spots,” he said in a cutting tone at the map and she shrugged in agreement.

“It’s a party,” she answered, trying to believe her own words. “I’ll lose a few hands to him today to make him trust me.”

Cassian’s eyes flashed up to hers at the word _trust_ and she remembered, she remembered, she –

“I’ll be back by twenty-hundred hours,” she said, and pocketed her comm. If she had to spend another minute with him right now, thinking about him, she was going to explode.

+

The door _whooshed_ shut behind Jyn and he fell back against the couch, the blaster falling to his side. Maybe this mission alone with her was too much, or maybe it was this particular mission. He definitely didn’t want to never see her again. That was the opposite of what he wanted. And yet – if he couldn’t keep it together after last night –

He checked in with Bodhi on the secure channel.

Bodhi told him to pull himself together and not get killed.

Good point.

While Jyn was currying good favor with the Imperial high rollers, he worked on the secondary mission. Draven never sent operatives out with only a single goal if he could help it, or if the stakes weren’t too high. A place like _Coral Vanda_ was a plum target for Rebel reconnaissance. He worked his way around the ship, dropping the slicer packets Jyn had prepared into the ship’s system and sending a data dump to Bodhi and Kaytoo in orbit. He snooped around with a drink in his hand, lurking at tables and losing a hand here and there to collect names and estimate bank accounts. He swung by Jyn’s table, the dutiful husband, and made a few jokes that would amuse her table partners but leave him immemorable. She looked calmer now; at least more herself. He didn’t want her rattled; not tonight.

The mission, he thought, would go on.

And then they’d figure out what the hell they were going to do.

+

Jyn had learned a long time ago that it was easier to play dumb when you were actually thinking about something else. By the time she’d lost her fourth hand and only won one, she was starting to think that maybe she’d been wrong about Cassian, wrong about this whole trip. Wrong about what she thought he’d wanted, or at least, what she wanted. Wrong about Draven, probably, and his asinine simple plans.

(No, she self-corrected. She hadn’t been wrong about Draven. He was still asinine.)

But if she kept thinking about the celebrations at Yavin IV, the delirious joy of soldiers who had just tasted victory and the ghost of death, the feel of Cassian’s hand in hers as she led him down an anonymous hallway, the giddy joy of kissing him under the ashes of her ghostly sister, the desperate ache of his hands as he pulled her on top of him, the way he’d kissed her when she’d said _I trust you_ –

She was going to go mad. She wasn’t going to pay attention, and she could get them killed.

 _Don’t do that, then,_ she thought to herself, annoyance winning a temporary reprieve against her thoughts. _Don’t be an idiot over what you can’t have._  
It had been glory-laden and exquisite – and then he’d disappeared the next day. Maybe it wasn’t fair to call orders from Draven _disappeared_ , but it had felt like it. She remembered him cradling her past a stubborn nightmare, a kiss to her forehead, a call on his comm, and then – nothing.

Later, she’d learned he’d been sent out ahead of the evacuation, and then on a mission, on radio silence, alone. Part of her – the bitter, annoyed part – wondered if Draven did it to separate his best agent from a liability. Another part of her – the more angry, pissed off part – wondered if Draven did it not thinking about his best agent at all, or how he was putting him at risk by sending him alone, or how they’d barely escaped death on Scarif just weeks before. The indifference in Draven’s face suggested the latter, but the scar of bitterness remained.

So Cassian had gone, and nearly two months had passed, and then Cassian had come back, stumbling around his words and her. He’d almost – her stomach churned – seemed surprised to see her there again.

_Regret. Regret. Regret._

She’d stayed anyway. If they couldn’t find the time to sort out one night between missions, at least he still seemed – he seemed like the Cassian she’d known before.

He just didn’t seem able to talk to her.

“I’m out, boys,” she said to the strangers around her table, lacing her voice with all the sugar she had left. It was still sharp with loss, and she left more annoyed than before.

“What is going on down there?” Bodhi asked when she checked in. “Didn’t you talk to the manager?”

She blinked. Right. Code.

“Tonight,” she said, and from across the cockpit she heard Kaytoo swivel in the copilot’s chair. He said nothing, but judgment swam across the comm signal.

“Kaytoo says to get it together,” Bodhi said dryly, translating the droid’s stare, “or he’s going to come down there himself.”

+

“This is stupid,” Jyn said, coming out of the bedroom. She was struggling to do something up the back of her dress, arms flailing in outraged shortness. “It wasn’t this hard on Hoth.”

He didn’t laugh at her, but she still stopped short at something in his face. Damn.

“There was help on Hoth,” he said, walking over to her.

“It’s stupid,” she muttered, as he stepped behind her, finding purchase on her dress to fasten it. “I can fight the Empire, but not this dress.”

He should move. This close to her, he could smell the soap from the shower on her, and though she’d put her hair into a different bun, rebellious tendrils were already on the loose, curling around her neck. She stilled under him and with a jolt, he realized he was still holding her dress fastenings. Hurriedly, he dropped the fabric and stepped away, clearing his throat.

“Different skill sets,” he said, bending over to pass her the equipment she’d need to smuggle into the party with her dress. “I can reprogram droids. You can slice computers.”

She made a noncommittal noise and he turned back from the equipment case to see her strapping her blaster under her dress.

“I see you remembered to change your boots,” he said, hoping his voice sounded more normal to her than to him. She snorted and the sound loosened the tension in his shoulders as her dress hem fell back down around her knees. The fringe of the dress was entirely metallic, belying the true metal inserts that blocked their equipment from scanners.

“When we get back to Hoth,” she said. “I’m going to burn this dress.” He arched an eyebrow at her and she straightened her shoulders defensively. “It’ll warm up the base if I do.”

Once they stepped outside their rooms, his training took over. This was familiar. This he knew. He could do this, with Jyn at his side or not, and he’d make sure they both got out.

+

She got them inside without a problem, and the scanner they’d run across her hadn’t detected the transmitter she’d hidden inside the hem of her dress. Whatever else she had to say about Rebel Intelligence, their props team didn’t do shoddy work.

The dress hung heavy around her knees with the metallic hem, though not so much she was afraid to move in it. The fringe didn’t make a sound either, which was a trick she’d have to learn to duplicate. It swam around her kneecaps, whispers against her skin, and despite herself she caught herself smiling.

“What is it?” Cassian asked, abandoning some small talk with a casino representative.

“Tickles,” she gritted out, trying not to laugh, and the first real smile she’d seen on him since yesterday crossed his face. “Behind my knees.”

“Too bad,” he said, but his eyes still betrayed him.

They mingled, he on her arm, the husband of the sabacc player who seemed to have a bottomless credit line. Casually, they moved from circle to circle, taking in the layout of the rooms. Marks’ apartments were at least twice the size of their own, if not larger. It was akin to a small villa more than a hotel room, and a spiral staircase curled up to a second level at the back. From another angle, swinging doors revealed a kitchen with serving staff.

“Okay,” Jyn said conspiratorially, “with this layout, private quarters are upstairs.” Cassian had to bend over to hear her at that volume and she caught the scent of blaster oil and soap from the shower. It was more familiar than distracting, and she scanned the party goers with a narrow eye. They wouldn’t be missed, if they could make it upstairs.

But Jyn knew more than just the official layouts, and knew where to look. Some skills never died out. With apartments this large, there was always more than one access point upstairs. They drifted away from the center of the party, and as the lights dimmed and the booze flowed more freely, Jyn found and released the latch on the service stairs. Without a word, Cassian followed her into the dark.

It was _really_ dark. They couldn’t risk turning on any lights, but there was only one exit point for a stairwell like this. This one likely led to an exit between a small office and the bedrooms. Marks’ datapad would probably be in his office, and it’d be under lock and key if it was worth anything.

Carefully, she popped the stairwell exit at the top and peeked around the corner. No service staff, or anyone else. There was a door to their left, locked, and an ajar one across the hall.

“I’ll check the bedroom,” Cassian volunteered. “Just in case.”

On her own, she considered the keypad. It would change with every guest, but there was always a hotel staff override. With this model…thoughtfully, she punched in a set of buttons. The sequence ended in a long _beeeeep_ that made her wince and then, without further protest, the door slid open.

Empty. _Empty_. Frozen hells. He wasn’t using the office at all. When on the _Coral Vanda_ …

Whirling around, hoping it wasn’t a trap, she heard steps at the bottom of the main stairwell.

“I thought I saw someone come up here, Mr. Marks,” a worried voice said. “And we’ve had a few thefts.”

“Really,” a dry voice replied. “You don’t advertise that.”

She didn’t even think; she reacted. As the owners of the voices started their ascent, the office door fell shut behind her and she barreled through the bedroom door.

“Hide,” she hissed at Cassian, looking around frantically. There wasn’t time to get back to the service stairwell without risking exposure. They had a plan for this, but she’d need the element of surprise.

He froze, datapad in his hand, and she wanted to burst out laughing at the ironic futility of it. If they were caught with it, the datapad was useless.

“They won’t check here first,” he said quietly, reaching his hand out for the transmitter. Her mind went fuzzy, distracted with thinking of how she’d fight past Marks and the other voice, past the guests, past the plainclothes guards, and get to an escape pod before –

“Jyn,” he repeated more firmly, and she snapped into action, handing him the device. “Lock the door,” he said, “as quietly as you can.” The back of the datapad came off in with a quiet _pop_. Quick as could be, the transmitter was plugged in, the cover back on, and hidden back where she assumed he’d found it.

“What now?” she hissed. The voices were louder on the other side; they must have checked the office first. Through the wall, the server’s voice came closer.

“Maybe someone came up for the ‘fresher,” the server asked, and Jyn locked eyes with Cassian. There was only one way to the ‘fresher, and nowhere to hide past that.

“The door’s locked,” Marks said, irritation in his voice. It was clearly aimed at the staff member. “I didn’t lock it.”

Jyn stepped closer to Cassian, rolling her shoulders in readiness for a fight. If she could knock Marks out quickly –

Behind her, Cassian turned her to face him, backing them towards the bed. Her knees caught the edge as he held her upright, steady.

“Trust,” he murmured next to her ear, “goes both ways.”

He was asking permission, his plan obvious now. She was shaking, but determined. Her heart pounded with adrenaline and fear and a day’s restless desire, and at last she gave into it. It was for the mission. It was allowed. Leaning up to meet him, she cradled his face in her hands and kissed him with everything she had left.

(Stardust burst behind her eyes.)

He fell with her onto the bed, pulling her to him as her mouth opened under his, hungry. He was making noises, or she was, that she didn’t want to think about too much as her dress tangled around her waist, his fingers hot on her skin. From the other side of the room, there was an angry _beep_ from the door that led to a kick. She must have done something to the lock, and she stole another second here and now. Cassian shifted between her knees, his hands catching in her hair, and she locked eyes with him as he looked down at her.

“Jyn,” he murmured, and there was more than a question, more than a request. There was a promise in it, and her legs tightened around him on instinct as his mouth founds hers again.

_Real. This was real._

After that, her brain sparked and something was building in her, desire real and warm and – her hands tightened around him, panicking, not now, not –

Somewhere, a galaxy away, a door clicked open. His hands slipped next to her, missing purchase on the bedspread, as his hips jerked against her and his eyes snapped open to meet hers in surprise.

_Breathe. Breathe._

“Oh my!” a startled gasp cut in.

Jyn broke the kiss and felt almost physical pain from the loss of it. Embarrassment followed quickly after with red cheeks that she hoped would save their collective asses. She rested her cheek on the bedspread, panting for breath as Marks and a staff member peered in. Her hands were still gripping Cassian’s hips and she forced herself to let go. He took a heartbeat longer than her and then, of all things, she saw his Imperial office mask slide into place.

(He hadn’t been wearing that before.)

“Oh,” said Sorin Marks, the shock still not worn off. “I – I see.”

Cassian rolled up with a fluid motion that made the longing in Jyn’s belly tighten, and the move shielded her from partial view as she straightened herself. One of his hands was still stretched behind him, the fingertips almost touching hers.

“Oh,” Cassein Willix said, his Core Planet accent smoothing over some of the indiscretion. “I think my wife and I – we were looking for the ‘fresher, and I – I’m afraid we’ve had too much to drink.”

Jyn pulled herself to stand in front of Cassian, offering him her hand and pulling him up after her.

“I’m so embarrassed,” she breathed, and if her accent was not as posh as Cassian’s, the disarray she was in surely distracted from that. It wasn’t entirely untrue. Sorin Marks’ mouth made a perfect ‘O’ as he took her in. “I can’t believe – can we make this right somehow?” She forced a rueful smile on her face. “I can stake you in tomorrow, at the limit? I can’t believe we – ” Her hands flew to her mouth and she dropped her gaze in the image of a girl in a holovid she’d seen once.

Sorin Marks blushed as if they’d found _him_ in _their_ quarters.

“That’s…alright, then,” he said. Jyn would also feel bad for him, if he wasn’t in the service of mass murderers. “Tomorrow then.”

+

They’d excused themselves as quickly as able after that. When they got back downstairs, the ease of their escape clicked into place. The rest of the party downstairs looking more like their private event upstairs than before and he shot a look at Jyn in relief. She wasn’t looking at him though, eyes locked straight ahead, and his stomach tightened again.

He’d fucked up. She was going to leave, she was going to leave, _she was going to -_

Cassian kept an even pace to his steps as Jyn darted a glance around the hallways, seeing if they were being tailed. It seemed unnecessary – Marks could source their rooms more easily if he wanted – but old habits had kept them alive this far. That, and luck.

As soon as they were in their quarters, Jyn flew her first two fingers to her mouth in stony warning. Disappearing into the bedroom, she came back with the scanner and went through the room meter by meter, diligent as he’d ever known her to be. As soon as the scanner shut off though, she whirled and stared at him with large eyes.

“What was that?” she asked, her voice barely controlled. He froze, taken by surprise. He’d thought that was obvious.

“And don’t – ” she broke off, collecting her thoughts. She was trying, very hard, he realized, to make sure this didn’t go wrong. “That was _real_ ,” she said, her voice breaking, and Cassian froze. “I thought – you didn’t – ” She huffed in frustration, at much at herself as the situation. “If that was real, if you wanted me around, what have we been _doing_ since you came back?” she finally said, and her fists balled into the fabric of her dress.

He didn’t need her to explain anymore, not now. Not after the last disastrous day.

(Disastrous for him, if not the Rebellion.)

“I didn’t want you to leave,” he said quietly, and she held her breath. She still wasn’t looking at him. “Draven kept sending me on missions. He sent me away, and I never expected to find you there again, after – everything.” He took a step closer to her. “I hoped,” he added quietly, so close he could smell the soap on her skin. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest he thought it might bruise. “But I was gone so long – I didn’t want to take away your home by ruining that.”

She looked at him then, a thousand missed moments in her eyes, and dropped the fabric of her dress to pull him down into another kiss, relief tinged with the memory of their last kiss. Her last kiss was still burning his lips when he caught this one, and if the last one had been desperate, a final kiss before death, this was the first kiss of survival, hope tinged with fervor and more, more than he could name now. Maybe ever.

He went down easy.

She made a noise under him as he pulled her closer, the space between them a desert valley. He thought he might be crushing her, and then realized she’d backed them against a wall, prioritizing. It was a quick move to life her up, her legs pinned around him, and he felt his heart right itself as she pulled him closer, palms to his chest.

“Don’t,” she said, breaking away to draw a shaky breath, “ever leave like that again.”

He couldn’t make any promises. He had no say in it, but he brushed his nose to hers, wishing.

“I know,” she said more softly and he sighed against her, drowning in the sense of her. “I’ll try,” he said, and she nodded, leaning in to kiss him again, a gentle answer to his own.

“You know,” she said, grinning happily as she broke the kiss again, gesturing with her head, “there’s a perfectly good bed in there.”

She was a fire under his hands, burning quiet and violent and hopeful, and the nearness of her etched itself over every day he’d lost since the first.

_Finis_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [ladytharen](http://ladytharen.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr if you want to say hi!


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